


Spark's Way

by KiaMianara



Series: The Difficulties of being stuck on a mud ball [5]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, Misunderstandings, Optimus is so oblivious it's not funny anymore, Pining, Prowl and Jazz are bros, Ratchet is not amused, Slow Build, slight PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-31
Updated: 2014-10-31
Packaged: 2018-02-23 09:08:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 20,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2542079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KiaMianara/pseuds/KiaMianara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There were things you just didn't do as Autobot, even more when you were in special ops, and on the top of that list definitely stood Don't fall in love with your commander. Well, rules had never really been his strong point anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I worte this in back in 2011, or startet at least, and have no better explanation than that I wanted to indulge in the pairing.
> 
> Also, I'm shit at writing slang, so ... yeah, I probably just shouldn't do it, but I kind of like it anyway.

* * *

 

There were things one just didn’t do, especially when you were part of special ops. The ever growing list of `dos and don’ts´ was drilled into the trainees for very good reasons. They had lost too many good agents to the resulting trauma already.

 

You didn’t get caught red handed in the Decepticon ship’s mainframe and you didn’t spy on Megatron and Starscream when they had one of their infamous arguments, because nobody wanted to know what really went on behind closed doors, like, not at all. The same applied to the quarters of all combiner teams regardless of fraction and of course that of the minibots.

 

Then there were things Autobots in general shouldn’t do, like pissing off Ratchet. That certainly had highest priority, closely followed by sticking around when Wheeljack tested one of his new inventions. Surviving was much easier when you didn’t do that, but most importantly didn’t you under any conditions tell your superior that you were madly in love with him for Primus only knew how long already. It was a bad idea, period, unprofessional, doomed to fail and would just ruin a perfectly good friendship, not to mention the moral dilemma that would entail.

 

On the other hand, Jazz mused, starring at his high-grate in the nightly abandoned rec room, had nobody here any ground to complain on. Ratchet and Ironhide were together since the beginning of time, or something equally long ago, while that between Wheeljack and Perceptor was still relatively new, but on a potentially explosive level – metaphorically, actually. The number of `accidents´ had decreased significantly since they had started dating – kind of cute to watch. Inferno and Red Alert were also rather adorable together, but their poor head of security was already paranoid enough, so after stating once that they were happy for them, the pair had been left alone about it. Mirage and Hound, however, would not be able to escape quite a lot of teasing when they finally came out of the figurative closet and admitted they were seeing each other for entirely _not_ profession reasons for a while already and that were only their more prominent couples. Listing all would just take too long, even for reasons of self-pity.

 

Maybe it was something in the air, all that oxygen could get to a mech’s head after a while, but since they had come to earth things had sped up exponentially relationship wise. Pit, even Sideswipe’s pranks started to look like some really strange attempts of wooing, except that the red hellion should know that the Pits would freeze over before the object of his affection would realise that he wasn’t purposefully driven insane, but courted.

 

In Prowl’s defence, Jazz hadn’t believed it at first either, but all that paled in comparison to his own dilemma.

 

Yes, the great Jazz-man had it bad, really bad, for a long time already, but he hadn’t fallen for just anyone, no. Of course he had to go for the embodiment of a good match: Optimus `till all are one´ slagging Prime and, Primus, did he want to be `one´ with him in every sense of the word.

 

Well, okay, so _that_ was the high-grate talking, and the frustration. If he’d just wanted a good shag there were far easier ways to achieve that. At first, maybe, it had been his main intention and back then he had cut off that train of thought `for the cause´, but over the long time they had worked together already he had gotten to know the other also as a person and had long since reached a point where he wanted the full package. Because of their respective positions he was even willing to make amendments in the open display and frequency department, but he wanted the silly pet names, he wanted good morning and good night and welcome home kisses, even if it was only between triple shifts, frag, he even longed for doing paper work side by side and be it only for the occasional brushing of servos. He wanted to be held and hold in return, he wanted ... he wanted what the others had and he wanted it with their leader, but with the Matrix Optimus could have just as well untouchable, and one of the worst parts about that was that it was just a figure of speech and not really the case. Sure, he then would be deprived of those small, comforting, but also maddening, because so entirely decent in nature, gestures, but he also wouldn’t need to worry about the Decepticon’s one day getting the upper hand.

 

`Super Prime´. Bringing the `A´ into `amazing´ ... as in amazingly drunk. Wouldn’t it be great, if he could actually use that excuse? But it was still his first cube and, for the record, Jazz wasn’t a light weight, though right now he wished he was. Then it wouldn’t take so fragging long to get drunk off his aft that it wasn’t worth the effort to even start trying, not to mention that certain medical elements of their crew had very little sympathy for poor catered mechs. Maybe love sick mechs, but not catered ones, no matter the reason.

 

“Am I right to assume that, if I would request to know why you are still up, you would only reply that you could ask me the same question?”

 

“Why, Prowler, ye just know me too well. Why don’t ye sit down and tell me why ye’re here and then Ah’ll tell ye why Ah’m here?”

 

“Because the moment I am done venting my frustrations about certain members of this crew, you always find one reason or another to leave and sadly I usually lack the time to pursue and annoy you until you also tell me what is bothering you” the tactician replied calmly, but sat down nonetheless. “The logical conclusion is to use this opportunity and stare at you until you talk. I noticed you were rather ... blue recently.”

 

Prowl probably had no idea what a strange combination of adorable and hilarious his attempts to adjust to Jazz’ speech patterns were, especially when it was evident how very confusing he found the thought of a colour also describing a mood.

 

“Nah, it’s nothing. Just the weather getting ta me, ye dig?”

 

“Jazz, we are already past the point where you can deny you have a problem, but, seeing your unwillingness, maybe you could help me solve a riddle that has been bothering me for a while already instead” the other monochrome offered, ever the diplomat, even in a private conversation between best friends. It was part of why Jazz liked him so much. Different they may be, but in those differences they had found comradeship, a brother who understood and didn’t ask questions that shouldn’t be answered.

 

He much rather talked about riddles right now anyway.

 

“Such a thing exists?”

 

“Sadly, yes, and for longer than I care to remember. I believe we can all agree that I’m not very good with emotions in general, mine and others’.”

 

“It’s gotten much better, but ... yes, ye could say so.”

 

“Then how come even I can see that you ... have the hots for the big Kahuna.”

 

Jazz’ vents stuttered.

 

“Ah have _what_?!”

 

“You heard me. You ... gush over him and freak out every time he ...”

 

“Okay, wow, stop right there, Prowler, just ... stop.”

 

“I haven’t even started yet.”

 

“No, Ah mean stop trying ta use slang. It just ain’t ye style. Ah can’t take ye serious like this.”

 

Prowl flustered. Being friends with Jazz really wasn’t easy some times. Either he was being told to `chill´ – he still wasn’t sure what temperature had to do with neglecting urgent work – and when he tried to adapt to his best friend’s way to view the world, it made him subject of ridicule, though certainly not ill meant. He had learned fast that the private Jazz lacked every trace of malice the business Jazz might display. This dualism was one of the things that actually crept the tactician out to the point that he favoured to pretend it didn’t exist whenever he could and luckily this was as private as it could ever get.

 

Well, back to the task at hand.

 

“Very well. Do you require me to start again?”

 

“If ye please. Ah lost ye, like, five minutes ago.”

 

The tactician wanted to point out that he had arrived only four minutes ago, tops, but decided this had to be another figure of speech and thus didn’t need to be corrected or discussed further.

 

“I meant to say that it is plain obvious even to me that you are madly in love with Optimus.”

 

“And here Ah hoped Ah misinterpreted ye words.”

 

“You are not denying it then?”

 

“Why should Ah? Ye wouldn’t approach me with it, if ye weren’t absolutely sure. So hit me: what gave me away?”

 

“Honestly? Everything. Whenever he enters a room, you light up; you are worse than Ironhide about his safety in battle and don’t get me started on your behaviour when he actually manages to get damaged. You try to hide it, but I wouldn’t be surprised, if everyone was already aware of your infatuation with our Prime.”


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

 

Jazz slumped. Because of his battle computer (and general up bringing that even after all this time made Jazz fantasise about killing the other’s creators, if they wouldn’t have been dead already before they even met) Prowl was awkward at best when it came to emotions, but when even he had noticed ...

 

“That bad?”

 

“Worse. Remember last month, the attack on the power plant?”

 

The saboteur winced. How could he forget that? One of Megatron’s `grant schemes´ had once again failed spectacularly, resulting in an explosion that would have blown half the countryside sky high, if it wouldn’t have been for Optimus’ intervention. The damage on their leader hadn’t just been bad, it had been so bad that Ratchet hadn’t cursed or thrown things. He had just kicked the Prime out afterwards and asked – actually asked, not even ordered – him to rest. It had been so strange a situation that Optimus had not dared to get up for a full week, which had also been about the time span their medic had pretty much been in hiding. Then he had marched into Prime’s quarters and kicked him out so they all could go back to their normal lives. That last part had been comparably funny to watch, but everything else ... pretty much the worst week of Jazz’ life, or close to it.

 

Stupid war.

 

“Don’t remind me.”

 

“We all would rather forget about it. My point is: _Beachcomber_ was ready to have you sedated.”

 

“Beachcomber? Now ye’re execrating.”

 

“I’m not. You were driving everyone insane and he approached me on behalf of the entire crew to either sedate or maroon you on an island somewhere far away. I told him to fill out the forms and then approach Ratchet on the subject. Beachcomber must have believed I was serious. He was actually on his way to the med bay with said forms when Ratchet finally declared Optimus stable.”

 

Jazz’ head hit the table.

 

“ _That_ obvious? Slagging _Pit_! So much for special ops.”

 

“Indeed, but this is not something covered in training, so it’s not ...”

 

“Actually it is.”

 

Prowl froze, struggling with the new informantion for a moment, but then decided for the sake of his sanity to simply ignored it. Special ops were called that for a reason and, if he was honest with himself, he really didn’t want to know the details. He already knew more than most and that was already more than he wanted to know on some orns; no need to add to that.

 

“Oh. Yes, that brings me back to the actually riddle. You are aware of your feelings and so is everyone else, so why in the name of all that is good and proper didn’t you tell him already?”

 

“Ah give ye points for sneakiness, but are ye kidding me?”

 

“Not at all. I have known about your ... infatuation for a while already, but I cannot come up with a good reason for you to sit here in misery, failing to get drunk alone in the dark, when all you’d have to do is tell him. Is it because of the humans? You and Bumblebee are closest to them; I understand that you don’t want to offend them, but their ideas about morals concerning relationships are just ridiculous, not to mention that we really should explain them that there is a difference between their understanding of genders and ours anyway.”

 

“Now wait a klick. The humans have nothing ta do with any of this. Have ye counted the couples running around here recently? One more surely wouldn’t make much of a difference” the saboteur interrupted. Sure, the humans were rather strange in some aspects, but otherwise great to hang out with and not as bad as Prowl made them sound, most of them at least.

 

“Exactly my point. So what is it that holds you back then? It’s so unlike you, I am seriously considering to drag you to Ratchet for a deep processor scan.”

 

“Let me ask ye something in return: do ye remember that one orn we got so terrible wasted that the drinking alone could go down in history as the single most stupidest thing either of us ever did, including those solo missions of mine that we agreed to not talk about ever again for the sake of your processor and both our recharge circles?”

 

Prowl flustered, door-wings flaring up and down.

 

“You know I don’t, except for the arching processor and bits and pieces of Ratchet’s lecture about energon poisoning” he replied, though Jazz wondered not for the first time, if maybe the tactician was lying. Then again, they had come around in a very compromising position that left only very little room for guessing, so it probably wasn’t knowing, but his battle computer providing the most likely scenario of what two completely overcharged friends, neither of who had access to regular berth partners, might have done to end up entwined to the level that they had been on the floor of Jazz’ office, especially considering that usually Jazz could be found anywhere but there.

 

“Ah especially have the awkwardness in good memory. It almost cost us our friendship.”

 

“Because we both assumed the other remembered and didn’t approve.”

 

“Point is: Ah won’t risk it again. That’s just not worth it.”

 

“Why should I be offended when you and Optimus get together?”

 

“Not you. OP. Ye said yourself Ah’m obvious as all Pit and yet he never showed any signs of returning my feelings. A mech must accept when his attentions are unwanted. Ah’ve been kidding myself with this far too long already anyway. Time to get over it and move on.”

 

Again Jazz’ head hit the table. The `clung´ was rather satisfying to him, a sound of finality, but that way he missed out on the other’s suddenly smug expression.

 

“Did he ever discourage it?”

 

“Except by total ignorance? No, but Ah know a hopeless cause.”

 

“I see. Under these conditions I will let you in on a secret: Optimus Prime, current leader of the Autobots and Matrix bearer, is the single most oblivious person in the known universe.”

 

“ ... _Now_ ye’re execrating, right? Ah know he’s a bit slow to catch up on some things ...”

 

“He wouldn’t even notice that you are flirting with him, if you’d put on pink straps and beat him with a neon sign.”

 

It was a hilarious comment on its own, but with their head tactician delivering it with a completely serious expression and his trade mark dead pan voice ...

 

“ ... Do Ah even want to know where that came from?”

 

“Over worked battle computer” Prowl answered dryly, fighting off the mental image. He didn’t need that, he didn’t _want_ that to ghost around in his ... oh frag.

 

“Oh, good. Ah already feared ye broke something. And Ah guess, if the big guy is so clueless, that would make ye only the second most oblivious person on this ship?” the other asked back slyly and, if nothing else, his wide, mostly fake grin told the tactician that this was as much as Jazz would be willing to talk about his own dilemma so they could just as well return to the usual routine and talk about his.

 

Prowl flustered once again.

 

“I will admit that I am not sure what to do with it, but I’ll have you know that I figured out on my own that a certain individual seems to harbour a personal interest in me. V _ery_ personal.”

 

“That’s one way ta put it” the other black and white chuckled. “If it helps, Ah think he’s actually serious about it. Ye can say what ye want, but Siders is not the kind of mech ta play with feelings like that. Wouldn’t dare to with so few places to run to.”

 

“What do you mean?” the tactician asked, suddenly upright and alarmed.

 

“Sideswipe. Ah know he ain’t got the best reputation in that regard and doesn’t ... ye weren’t talking about him, were ye?”

 

Mortified the other shook his head, the look of horror on his faceplates absolutely priceless.

 

“I thought ... he had been very attentive lately, left little gifts, made sure I refuel, dropped by just to ask how I was ...”

 

“Who?”

 

“Sunstreaker.”

 

For a moment Jazz just starred at his friend, then burst out in laughter before he could stop himself.

 

“Oh, Primus, both of them? Prowler, my mech, ye’re really in for it now.”

 

The look of horror intensified, if that was even possible.

 

“Jazz, I will crash any moment” he stated and Jazz had just enough time to lunge forward and catch the other ungracefully.

 

Frowning at the unconscious tactician the saboteur reached for his cube and drowned the content before securing his hold and carrying Prowl to the med bay in a more or less dignified manner. Their medic certainly was still up, as the whole command staff had the unhealthy habit to overwork themselves. He was admittedly not an exception himself, but at least he had a good excuse. When you were infiltrating an enemy’s base, resting could cost you your life, but after missions he always tried to taking a few orns off to recover, not counting days in medical, so technically was he the only one with a semi healthy work-rest-balance. Didn’t always work that smoothly, but he tried.

 

Anyway, first he had to face Ratchet, then he could muse about things that should be put in job descriptions.

 

“Before ye throw something at me: this time he could actually warn me in time ta catch him.”

 

“And why should that appease me?” Ratchet asked with a frown, wrench ready in his servos. Damned be the one at fault for inventing the medic’s favourite game of `hit the idiots´.

 

“Well ... he’s out cold, but otherwise fine?”

 

“But it doesn’t change the fact that you crashed his processor again. Primus damn it, as if I don’t have enough work with keeping everyone alive. Don’t you _want_ to understand that you could cause permanent damage?”

 

“Hey now, this one was an accident, Ah swear.”

 

“Jazz, when Wheeljack blows up half the Ark, _that_ is an accident, and it’s actually part of his job. What’s your excuse?”

 

It had to be said that usually Jazz was very adamant about and extremely good at keeping secrets, especially those of his friends. He could withstand things without saying a thing that would make other sick just knowing such methods existed, but when Ratchet was involved it was usually a matter of life and death, in this case his own continued existence and technically this wasn’t a secret either.

 

“He said he figured out he’s being courted. Ah thought he meant Sideswipe, but turns out our Sunshine also has his optics on him. Not to say it’s their fault, but not mine either.”

 

Ratchet’s frown deepened and for a moment the saboteur actually feared for his life. It went against their moral code, but he wouldn’t be the first to suggest to just sic their medic on the Decepticons. The war would be over within a few days, if not sooner, but they couldn’t do that to the poor sods. That would be just too cruel.

 

“Both twins courting Prowl? ... Well, I guess that _is_ actually a good excuse.”

 

“So ... no wrench to the head?”

 

“No, not today, but, if I hear anyone utter a word about me growing soft, I will end you, creatively; is that clear?”

 

“Crystal.”

 

“That’s a good little Autobot. Now shush.”

 

“Aren’t ye going ta bring him around? We were in the middle of discussing something important.”

 

“Important enough to bring up the twins in context with fragging dear prudent Prowl and crash our head tactician? Let him come around on his own. He’s been skipping recharge again anyway.”

 

“He ain’t _that_ prudent. Told me to put on straps and beat Prime with a neon sign.”

 

That certainly made Ratchet shut up, at least for the moment, and when he found his voice again it wasn’t in any fashion Jazz had expected.

 

“That little cheat! I _knew_ he wouldn’t play fair. Never bet against a tactician.”

 

Jazz made an unintelligent sound. He knew best about his own reputation to always be on top of the rumour mill, but between organising his fellow special ops members, spying on the humans – a sad necessity – _and_ the Decepticons, not to mention sighing over his seemingly unrequited infatuation, he had not really brought himself up to date lately.

 

“Don’t pretend you never placed bets on relationships.”

 

“Oh, that. Yeah, guilty as charged. Just surprised Prowler joined the fun. Out of curiosity: what was the stake?”

 

“If you get this out of the world within the next two weeks I’m not allowed to bug Prowl about his constantly overworked state for a whole month. If it takes longer, Prowl will have to take a full week off.”

 

“ ... Ratch, ye know Ah’m all in for Prowler taking a vacation, but ye can’t expect me ta just sit around and wait another two weeks. We’re talking about an eon old frustration here.”

 

“I could sedate you meanwhile.”

 

“Or Ah’ll just let it slip just how little recharge Prowler really gets in the presence of a certain pair of brothers. If they’re seriously interested in him, they’ll make sure he gets enough time off in the future and ye won’t _have_ ta bug him.”

 

“Do I even want to know what you are going to do to them, if they _aren’t_ serious?”

 

It was for once a very dark smirk Jazz showed their medic and Ratchet groaned knowingly.

 

“At least give them a fair warning beforehand. I have enough trouble putting them together after a battle already. Don’t need you to add to that.”

 

“Ratch, ye know we all got our issues, but Prowler is my best friend. If they dare ta mess with him, there won’t be enough left of them ta find out what happened to them. If ye’d excuse me now, Ah have a Prime to seduce ... after his recharge circle is through?” the saboteur offered appeasing when Ratchet again got his wrench ready to throw.

 

Primus help him, considering how scared Jazz was of their medic, they really should sic him on Megatron and, if that didn’t help, telling Ironhide his beloved mate had been bot-napped certainly would. Instant victory for the Autobots, minimal causalities on their side, moral mostly intact since they would pity the poor D-Cons and make it look like an accident ... the high grate must have gone bad, if he was really considering that, but at least he now felt confident enough again to do something about his situation. He had been idle for far too long already.


	3. Chapter 3

* * *

 

Sometimes life just wasn’t fair. All he had wanted were a few minutes alone with Optimus to keep possible embarrassment/humiliation to a minimum, but the universe at large seemed to have other plans. Two Decepticon raids on energy plants in the last week, both with lots of destroyed property that Prime of course volunteered to help clean up, and now a landslide. That meant first _running_ through mud and rain to save the humans, then _dig_ through more mud and, oh joy, after days of pointless digging they’d have to go home with mud caking everywhere and the wash racks inaccessible, because everyone was muddy and tired and cranky and it would probably come to acts of violence, because said wash racks wouldn’t be able to handle all that mud.

 

It would be hell on earth, as the humans said, but it was no use getting worked up about that while they were still stuck with the `digging through mud´ part. Still, personally Jazz had to agree with those mumbling under their metaphorical breath that they should just go home now instead of later and let the humans deal with this on their own mistakes for once. They had decided to build their settlement at the food of a hill after all and they had cut down all the trees on said hill without leaving anything standing to keep the soil where it had been when it rained. It was their own fault, but they were Autobots, so they helped, though right now he cursed their moral obligations.

 

“And here I was hoping we could finally start working on our own mission” Sideswipe sighed, shaking his limbs in order temporarily relieve himself of at least a bit of the dirt.

 

“Which would be?”

 

Of course Jazz already knew the answer, but any distraction from that really, really creepy feeling of mud sliding in places it didn’t belong would work for him right now. Ratchet would have a field day about the necessarily of high pressure hoses after this. Maybe Spike would be willing to help out, though the (once) monochrome mech had justified doubts after what had happened last time and he wasn’t talking about certain individuals complaining about what the hose did to their paint jobs. Their human allies had proven to be quite resistant towards some of the facts about cybertronian culture and physics and stuff that wasn’t exactly conform with their own believes. In fact, they had generally shown more acceptance and understanding than they could have asked of them, but they just weren’t ready for certain kinks yet, probably never would.

 

“Make Prowl recharge.”

 

“Preferable in our berth, but recharge in general would be a good start. He’s been up for what, three days straight?”

 

“Ye remember what Ah said about hurt feelings followed by unimaginable pain?”

 

It was ironic, in a sad way, how he had found the time to give the twins a detailed warining about the consequences should they just be playing with Prowl, but hadn’t even had five minutes alone with Optimus.

 

“Oh, come on. We told you we’re serious.”

 

“If we don’t get a sudden heat wave you don’t have to worry about that anyway, because we will be stuck here for eternity.”

 

“Don’t bewitch it. Hey, Jazz, what’s up with you today anyway?”

 

“Just the dirt, mech” the saboteur lied. In truth he didn’t have a clue about why he hadn’t felt like himself in the last two days. Maybe he shouldn’t have skipped on post battle checkups, but Ratchet had been a dead mech walking when he had finally been finished with the worst cases and he had felt fine that time, if a bit unbalanced on a mental level, but, hey, everyone felt down at one point. No reason to make a big deal out of it.

 

“I hear you. With Prowl in control of the maps at least we don’t have to fear a cave-in.”

 

“I said don’t bewitch it, dumb aft!”

 

“I’m not.”

 

“Are, too.”

 

And off they were. At least it wasn’t about Sunstreaker’s paint – or lack thereof, if they didn’t get out of here anytime soon – again, but with the twins arguing the mud on the other side of the hill started to look much more appealing all of the sudden, especially since Optimus was digging over there. He would have much preferred another setting, but maybe he would get his five minutes here.

 

“Hey, where are you going?”

 

“Just need ta look at something else, mech.”

 

Sideswipe looked pointedly in the direction Jazz was heading.

 

“Yep, white aft with mud is definitely better than just plain mud.”

 

“Shut up.”

 

“You’re really not yourself today.”

 

A ball of mud hit Sunstreaker in the face and Sideswipe could just so stop his twin from answering in kind, wearily watching Jazz wade away.

 

“Bro, don’t start a mud war with him, not today. Primus only knows what hit him, but we really shouldn’t get in his way.”

 

“You think we should call Ratch?”

 

“Hate to say it, but, yeah, we probably sh ...”

 

A rather a really disgusting smacking noise and a yelp interrupted Sideswipe and a moment later Jazz literally vanished into the ground and their leader, in an attempt to help, with him.

 

“In hindsight, maybe shovels would do them more good right now.”

 

“I told you not to bewitch it, dumb aft.”

 

*~*~*~*

 

Jazz knew two things for a fact: he wasn’t that heavy and groaning about it usually didn’t change anything about a situation, but this time it caused a mumbled apology and the weight was removed.

 

“Are you alright?”

 

“Depends on what happened. Is that ye, OP?”

 

A moment later the head lights of Optimus’ alt mode flickered to life, blinding at first.

 

“There must have been a cave-in. We were somewhat lucky; something blocked the entrance.”

 

Jazz took a look around without moving more than his head. Brown everywhere, including their frames, and indeed something that looked vaguely like a large stone just over their heads.

 

“Yeah, would be unpleasant to be trapped underground _and_ buried in mud” the saboteur noted dryly. It was better than the alternative, but he was more of an open air mech – one of the reasons he went to special ops, though not the major motive. Point was: he didn’t like being in enclosed spaces, period.

 

“Jazz, are you alright?” the Prime repeated, with a bit more urgency, probably because the smaller wasn’t even trying to get up. The monochrome mech realised he should, but he didn’t feel like moving at all right now, which was probably the strangest thought he ever had.

 

“Peachy. Ah mean, hey, Ah have been meaning to catch ye alone all week and here we are, alone, in a cave, under who knows how many tons of mud. And Ah make an educated guess and say our means of communicating with the others are none-existent, because we can transmit through the vastness of space, but not _mud_?”

 

The larger mech didn’t reply anything at first, but he mumbled something that sounded like `must have hit his head pretty hard´.

 

Now, usually Jazz was a laid back mech, everyone would tell you that. That _had_ been part of his job application, actually: Laid back individual for position as head of special ops to balance overly rational head tactician and overly idealistic Prime. That had been the header. Ironhide must have written it. The red old-timer had at least been the one to testify that Jazz was indeed so laid back people didn’t believe his profession until he blew them sky high.

 

Well, at the moment he felt anything but laid back, despite laying literally on his back, and blowing something up sounded quite appealing.

 

“Oh, yes, of course, Ah must have hit my head, because what other reason could there be for stupid little Jazz-man to be fragged off. Can’t be the pointless digging through mud for days; no sir, can’t be. Or being shot in the aft by stupid Cons, because that is so much fun, and surely it has absolutely nothing to do with trying to catch a certain superior’s attention for an eternity, only to fail again and again, because said mech is as oblivious as ... as ... Primus, there is nothing even remotely comparable! They should put his picture next to the dictionary definition of `oblivious´!”

 

By now the Prime looked decidedly uncomfortable, even with the trice damned face mask and Jazz felt at least a bit satisfied. Why should he be the only one uncomfortable anyway?

 

“I’m sure it’s not that bad.”

 

“Five million years, Optimus, not counting the time we spend in stasis. Five million years and all Ah get are friendly pats and ignorance. Just how oblivious can a single mech be?”

 

“Isn’t that a bit harsh?” the Prime tried to calm the other, getting a closer look at their current prison. He would rather know beforehand, if the walls were in any danger to give in, but surprisingly enough they seemed solid. Communications actually worked just fine as well, but he had a feeling informing Jazz of that wouldn’t appease the other at all, so instead he just radioed Ratchet and Prowl in silence and asked them to hurry, because their third in command was starting to creep him out. Not as much as that one time Wheeljack had somehow produced pink, fluffy things that bounced around and multiplied every time they hit something hard – now that he thought about it: how had they gotten rid of that plague anyway and did he actually want to know? – but a close second.

 

“Harsh? Do ye also have mud in yer audios? Ah’ve been trying for five fragging million years already. Ah’m frustrated on levels Ah can’t even describe! Ah’m head of special ops and can’t even corner a single mech for five fragging minutes! Life sucks, period.”

 

“Well, Prowl can be very evasive and rather oblivious, but I’m sure as soon as we are done here you can get your moment alone with him. If it’s any comfort, you have my blessings. Primus knows, we all sacrificed enough for this war already and you both deserve to be happy.”

 

The words took a full minute to register, then something snapped inside the saboteur and he started to laugh hysterically. In between he tried to point out that it most certainly wasn’t Prowl he was fantasying about it, but he didn’t get further than the monochrome’s designation for a while, then stumbled over `straps and neon-signs.

 

“Primus, how could Ah fall for such an idiot? Ah finally get ye alone to tell ye Ah love ye and get ye blessing ta bond another instead. That’s fragging-tastish!”

 

In that moment the ceiling gave in and Ratchet and Prowl peeked in, asking if everything was alright.

 

“Prowler, Prowler, ye know what? We have his blessing to run off and bond each other” Jazz managed to press out, crackling madly. “Ratch, my mech, just this once: knock me out! Ah beg ye; if Ah have to see his face any longer Ah swear Ah will tear it off!”

 

Medic and tactician exchanged a bewildered look, then starred at the hysteric saboteur and their befuddled leader.

 

“Ratchet, you know I fully support your standing on the abuse of medications, but could you make an exception this time?”

 

“Exception my aft” the medic growled, pulling out his scanner, followed by colourful swears while he jumped down and instantly sedated Jazz. After a moment the once black and white mech went limb, but the satisfied expression about having been granted his wish, no matter the reason, remained.

 

“Fragging Pit, that’s why I keep saying that post battle checkups are so important. That slagging idiot got internal damage and this dirt certainly hasn’t made it better!”

 

“How bad is it?” Prime asked worried and Ratchet grunted, adjusting ropes on the unconscious saboteur in order to have him pulled out.

 

“He will live, but I need to get him to the med bay and you will quit this stupid mud digging job right now. It’s fragging pointless. I will find dirt in places it doesn’t belong for months to come, if not longer, and I will blame you for every peck of it.”

 

Optimus nodded, concerned about Jazz’ condition, and, after having also been pulled out the hole, told his mechs to pack up and go home.

 

“Finally! Primus, do I start to hate this planet.”

 

“Indeed. Before you go, could you hand me your wrench, Ratchet?”

 

“Didn’t you interfere enough with our bet?”

 

“This isn’t about some stupid bet” Prowl argued as composed as always. “This about my best friend being miserable. He stood up for me more often than I can count; it’s time to repay the favour.”

 

Ratchet frowned surprised, but then handed out the requested tool.

 

“Fine. Have fun.”

 

“Oh, I will” the tactician replied and threw the borrowed wrench at their Prime with an accurate aim that belied the general impression that his position was only a desk job.

 

“You are an idiot, Optimus. Your blessing? Are you fragging kidding me? He only ever loved _you_ and you give _us_ your fragging _blessing_? It’s already difficult enough for me to keep up with him when he’s in a good mood, but you couldn’t at least let him down easily, could you? No, you had to make him angry and now _I_ have to bath it out. Thank you, really, what would I do with myself, if you wouldn’t provide more and more work for me all the time? A private life is completely overrated anyway and Primus prevent me from actually picking up a hobby or get a full recharge circle once a vorn. And clearly I must be missing out on an integral component of humour that you nag me about socialising more all the time when I barely find the time to cross read all the stupid reports that should actually be read and sighed by the fragging leader. I can take that, you’ve been doing that for eons already, but I will _not_ let you treat my only friend like that!”

 

Ironhide was the first to recover from the surprise about their tactician of all mechs reading Prime the riot’s act and just picked the not less shocked tactician up.

 

“Did I just really do that?”

 

“Yes, you did, and it was long overdue, but I take it as a sure sign that you are in desperate need of a break and I don’t want to hear a single complain from you.”

 

“Okay” the monochrome whimpered mortified and indeed didn’t protest at all when he, too was unceremoniously carted back to the Ark under Ratchet’s watchful optics.

 

“Isn’t he just delicious when he’s angry” Sideswipe sighed blissfully, scaring the living daylight out of everyone within hearing range, and happily trotted after Ironhide and his package, Sunstreaker on his heels. They wouldn’t let the object of their affection out of their sight again anytime soon.

 

Optimus Prime used the general confusion to make his silent exit. He had obviously done something very wrong here and he needed to think about how to make it right again without accusing stares and questions he really didn’t feel like answering right now, or even hear in the first place.


	4. Chapter 4

* * *

 

“Oh, sweet Primus, my poor head.”

 

“Ratchet said you would say that. He also instructed me to tell you that next time you skip post-battle checkups, he will do something unspeakable to you. It goes without saying that he used a lot more swear words than I, but I highly recommend you to not test him on that threat” Prowl noted almost neutrally, putting his data pad aside. “Fortunately he is not here at the moment. How do you feel?”

 

“Like slag warmed over.”

 

“Fascinating. Ratchet also predicted you would say that and wants you to know that it is normal to feel that way after having had one’s energon lines flushed. Apparently you had internal damage, which lead to a sepsis and the contamination of some other systems he didn’t specify any further. However, if there is a medical reason for your strange mood lately, he didn’t lose a word about it.”

 

Jazz frowned and slowly pushed himself up. He knew – sadly from experience – that a sepsis of the scale he assumed he must have had was no fun at all, though it really didn’t explain his mood, but the important part was that he knew how long it took to flush energon lines and knowing the other Prowl had hardly left his side in the mean time, if at all.

 

“Ye still got that record about our usual argument at this point?”

 

“The one about staying at each other’s side until the damaged one was coherent at least once no matter what? You know very well I do not actually own such a record. I only said it for arguments sake and because I was getting bored of going through the same motions time and again with the always same outcome: neither of us will stop, every. A bit diversity seemed appropriate that time.”

 

“Hehe, no arguing with that. Alright, let’s skip the argument this time. Sorry I worried ye.”

 

“You worried us all. Optimus wouldn’t talk about it, but he dropped by every day.”

 

“Don’t care. Ah’m through with him.”

 

Prowl frowned surprised.

 

“I already assumed something happened down there, but I must admit I didn’t expect it to be that bad.”

 

“Prowler, he gave us our blessing, as in ye and me. He’s not just oblivious, he’s plain _stupid_! And I’d rather not discus that right now.”

 

“Ah, good. Then at least my reaction had been justified, if maybe blown out of proportion, a bit.”

 

Now it was Jazz’ turn to frown, for a moment distracted from his anger about a certain matrix bearer. Something Prowl had done to their leader on his behalf? That wouldn’t be a first, but usually it were small, mean things, that felt like revenge but couldn’t be proven to be that. This sounded big.

 

“Ah’m scared ta ask, but ... what did ye do?”

 

With a hint of smugness the tactician briefly summarised what he had said to the Prime and added that he was still under observation because of that.

 

“On that note, did you consider that he might have acted the way he did, because he believed we were already in an intimate relationship?”

 

“No and Ah don’t want ta consider it either. Ah’m seriously fed up with this slag.”

 

“Very well.”

 

Jazz winced, familiar enough with the slight wavers in the other’s voice when he tried to sound uncaring, but wasn’t. All things considered it was actually quite easy to hurt Prowl’s feelings – how anyone could mistake him for emotionless was beyond Jazz anyway – and that the tactician could hold a grudge forever, if he wanted to.

 

“Sorry, Prowler. Ah didn’t mean to snap and Ah’m really grateful ye did that for me.”

 

“Under the current conditions you have every right to be upset.”

 

“Prowler, ye’re setting off all my alarms right now. What’s up? Is one of us worse off than ye let on? Because Ah surely feel fine. Fragged off, but fine.”

 

“Oh, it’s nothing life threatening” Ratchet replied in Prowl’s stead, casually strolling in and, if the tactician wouldn’t have already made him wary, Jazz now surely would be alarmed. A calm Ratchet when you were stuck in his med bay usually meant you were either in for the ancestor of all dressing downs or as good as dead.

 

“Now, I assume you have been informed of your condition and are aware that contamination sepsis is usually accompanied with horrible pain? Any idea why you haven’t been?”

 

“Er ... since it’s impossible that ye made a mistake I probably just got really lucky and should praise ye as the new God.”

 

“Good try, but no. You, my dear master saboteur, managed to get your neural net short circuited! Just what do I have to do to get it into your head that Starscream’s null rays have nasty side effects? If it weren’t for your odd behaviour and the cave–in, you would have offlined permanently within the next two weeks. How the Pit am I supposed to keep you alive when you keep skipping checkups, can you tell me that?”

 

“Ah don’t do it _that_ often and the ol’ banshee didn’t hit me.”

 

“That is true” Prowl interfered. “I used my current predicament to analyse the recent battles and I can testify that there is only a possibility of 11.6% that Jazz got hit by Starscream or anything else that might cause the failure of one’s neutral net.”

 

“11.6%? You expect me to let him off the hook because of slagging 11.6% when usually you are hardly satisfied with anything above 6%?”

 

“Yes. I’ve made the observation that certain individuals manage to spontaneously defy all odds and upset my calculations by up to 20%, usually for the better. I call it the `Jazz Factor´, for obvious reasons.”

 

“Wow. That’s ... mean” Jazz deadpanned, but got waved off.

 

“Describing your unpredictable nature as a mathematical term? Hardly. If I were to formulate a proper thesis about the application of said factor and submit it to a public forum for others to discuss, _that_ I would be mean.”

 

“ ... Honestly, of all the times ta develop a bad sense of humour, did it have ta be now?”

 

“Do you mean to imply I had no sense of humour before or that it had a better quality? I’ve been wondering for a while now about how the sense of humour of a person can be measured in the first place. It seems like a very subjective evaluation to me.”

 

“ ... They crashed ye processor really good this time, didn’t they?”

 

“Oh, not at all” Ratchet threw in and not without a certain amount of glee in his voice. “Go on, Prowl, tell him why you are really here.”

 

“My mental stability ...”

 

“He’s hiding from the twins.”

 

“I’m not!”

 

“Yes, you are. He told you about the speech he gave Optimus? Guess who overheard it and decided to skip courting from here on.”

 

“I swear, they are out there just waiting to jump my circuits!” Prowl blurred out, sounding like a combination of Blurr and Red Alert, which stood testament to how much the prospect distressed him, aside from being a terrifying mental image in and of itself.

 

Jazz looked back and forth between the two mechs dumbfounded, forgetting his own problems for a moment.

 

“And that is bad why?”

 

“The twins” Prowl punctuated horrified “Wait just outside this door and want to jump . my . _circuits_!”

 

“I let him stay, because we need at least one semi functioning officer around here and because they actually _do_ wait outside.”

 

“And they are causing quite a commotion with it” Optimus Prime added, also entering the med bay. He seemed to think it was alright; Jazz thought otherwise and it showed on his face.

 

“It’s good to see you up and about again, Jazz. How do you feel?”

 

“None of ye slagging business!”

 

“I’m aware I upset you and I’m sorry. Can we talk, please? I wish to explain myself to you.”

 

Refusing would have been easier, if Ratchet hadn’t dragged Prowl into his office located in the back of the med bay, leaving a rather uncomfortable Prime and defiant saboteur behind. That they didn’t close the door all the way didn’t make a difference.

 

“Jazz ...”

 

“No! Ah don’t want ta hear it.”

 

“Jazz, please. I’m honoured by your feelings, but ...”

 

“But not interested. Ah got ye the first time. Now leave me the slag alone!”

 

“You’re anger is certainly justified, but you have to understand that I’m the Prime. I won’t take advantage of any of my mechs like that.”

 

“What the ... are ye fragging _kidding_ me?! It’s not taking advantage, if Ah want it!”

 

“I’m the leader of ...”

 

“Doesn’t matter!” Jazz snapped. “Ye’re just a mech like everyone else and on top of that a giant aft. And, ta ye information, Ah’m not just angry, Ah’m royally fragged off and don’t want ta have this talk with ye!”

 

Since obviously nobody here was interested in what he wanted the monochrome mech tried to slip off the berth and leave – he felt more like jumping off and storm out, but he knew better than to do _that_ – only to fall right back, howling more from surprise than from the actual intensity of the pain suddenly cruising through his systems. Optimus made a step in his direction, arms raised to catch or maybe even comfort the smaller, but he never finished the move.

 

“In case I forgot to mention it: you short circuited your neural system, Jazz. The repairs left you sensible to pretty much everything, including air movement, so you better stay within the inductive field of that berth” Ratchet shouted from his office and, if he was smug, it

 

“Fine! But Ah won’t stay up and listen ta this slag any longer” the saboteur barked back, more than just fed up with the situation, and hit a button under the berth before Ratchet could so much as try to protest. He was out cold within a moment and blissfully unaware of the medic cursing him and his ancestors and that everyone actually knew where the stasis buttons were, but usually polite and smart enough to pretend they didn’t, so that he at times forgot they knew. He was the slagging CMO here; it was his exclusive right to knock patients out when he deemed it necessary and just doing it, especially for no better reason than argument’s sake, was potentially dangerous.

 

Prowl poked his head out of the office from where they had listened in on the short argument, gave the Prime, then Jazz and the door a contemplating look, before giving Optimus a thumbs up.

 

“Way to go. In all the time I’ve known him that must have been the first time Jazz ever ran away from anything that isn’t bound to explode.”

 

Coming from the tactician that could have been entertaining, except that Ratchet saw right through it. He had played nice medic so far, but, if these three in special thought they could just do what they wanted in his realm, they were dead wrong.

 

“Okay, that’s it. You want to act like younglings? Fine; then I will _treat_ you like younglings. Sunstreaker, Sideswipe, front and centre, right now!”

 

Just a sparkbeat later the twin terrors stood right were the medic had pointed, not minding the Prime, but not concealing their anything but innocent interest in Prowl either and the monochrome just wished to be somewhere far far away right now. Maybe, if he was fast enough, he could make it onto one of the berths with the commonly dubbed `K.O. buttons´. Ratchet’s fury would be limitless, but it would be worth it, except that the aforementioned medic stood in the way and any other route would lead within grapping range of the twins.

 

“A certain matrix bearer obviously lost his mind and upset Jazz so much he did something potentially dangerous in my med bay with me present.”

 

“Which upsets you and, since Jazz is out, you want to let it out on said matrix bearer, whose name we assumingly are not allowed to use right now?”

 

“Exactly. From this moment on our dear Prime is confined to his office until I find the time to make up a punishment deserving of this idiocy and one of you will bring him there. The other will get Prowl out of my sight. You can frag him senseless for all I care, just make sure he gets enough rest and remains somewhat sane. We still need his processor.”

 

“And I don’t get any say in this?”

 

The twins looked at the tactician and after a moment of silent conversation Sideswipe approached the irritated mech.

 

“Prowl, fragging you silly is admittedly part of the plan, but we want you, as a whole, in an exclusive relationship with us. If you are really that uncomfortable with the idea – and I mean really, not just the `I don’t know this situation´ kind of uncomfortable – we will leave you alone; unwillingly, but we will. But, if you can see any chance, no matter how small, that it might actually be worth it, then, please, let’s give it a try, okay? It will be on your terms, everything. We could start with just dating or something, find out if it can actually work out, no problem, but don’t back out just because you’re scared.”

 

“I’m your superior.”

 

“Who cares?”

 

That was actually a valid point. Prowl was second in command after all, so the only ones who could say anything against it would be their chief medical officer, their third, since he had to fill in as second in command, and Prime, but Ratchet didn’t care about ranks, Jazz had already stated that he approved and Optimus had just lost his right to interfere with anything regarding relationships.

 

It was then that it hit him: The twins really weren’t trying to drive him insane, they were serious! He could see it in Sideswipe’s optics – which were actually a very pleasant hue of blue up close – and Sunstreaker’s stance. They were serious in their approach and as scared of his rejection as Jazz had been of Optimus’. Considering what had just happened here he didn’t have the spark to just tell them off, but that wasn’t a sufficient reason to accept the offer either, neither was Jazz’ advice that there were just some things in life one just had to try firsthand and, if rumours were true, the twins were one of those things.

 

No, that weren’t good reasons, but their characters were and Prowl should know best. He was after all the one dealing with them most often and was privy to some details of their personalities that he was pretty sure no one else knew about and they wanted him. It was not the first time anyone showed interest in him, but it had been a long time and with the effort they had put into it already they were most definitely interested in _him_ and not just a good time. That didn’t change that the thought made him anxious, but ...

 

“I’m not scared.”

 

The brothers understood and their face plates lit up like Christmas trees, causing Prowl to feel quite content with his decision. That would at least prove to be interesting and watching Prime get chewed out by Ratchet for daring to protest when Sideswipe wanted to escort him was just the icing on the proverbial cake, ending with: “You are grounded, young mech, and, if you don’t go peacefully, I _will_ get Ironhide!”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know there is very little actualy interaction between Optimus and Jazz and Optimus comes over like the bad guy, kind off, but I will get there eventually.


	5. Chapter 5

* * *

 

To be fair, Optimus had been warned by several people, including Ratchet and Ironhide themselves, that taking two mechs along, who were bonded to each other for longer than most members of the team were alive, would sooner or later lead to said pair becoming overprotective.

 

That time the Prime hadn’t given it much thought. Ratchet and Ironhide were the best in their respective fields and he had firmly believed they would be done with this `quest´ long before that became a matter. When it had become apparent they wouldn’t leave earth anytime soon, Optimus hadn’t been quite as confident anymore, but still comparably sure that, as the Prime, he would mostly be immune to the spleens of his officers.

 

Well, obviously he had been very wrong on all accounts. Magnus would never let him hear the end of that, but that didn’t mean he regretted the decision. Granted, their bedside manners were hard to get used to, but without them his whole team, Optimus included, would already be dead. Wanting to avoid the wreath of their medic wasn’t exactly the best reason to be cautious, but no doubt effective, and Ironhide’s training, though it seemed more like a punishment half the time, served its purpose. Truth be told, that the old warrior had also declared himself the Prime’s bodyguard didn’t settle well with him at all, but he couldn’t change that.

 

Yes, they needed the old couple here, desperately, and when faced witht he possibility he had tried to prepare himself for the consequences, but the dressing down he had just received, though `survived´ might be the better term, he hadn’t been prepared for at all and they had been right in most of their accusations, except maybe that everyone tried to keep them from spending some quality time together on purpose.

 

Optimus had been blind to not realise that he was the object of Jazz’ affection and the way he had handled the situation also proved him to be an idiot. Still, the red and blue mech wished the other two would have heard him out. His reasons weren’t very good, all things considered, but sincere and he could have used their advice on what to do now.

 

He was the Prime, for crying out loud; the leader of the Autobots. He had to keep the big picture in mind, make sure his people survived and upheld a certain moral level throughout the war. He hadn’t always been this `bad´ – through he failed to see how caring for his people as a whole was something bad – but with time he had sacrificed more and more of what had been `Optimus´ for the sake of being a good `Prime´, for the sake of everyone, so that Tracks and Blaster and Grabble and Hoist and all the other couples could enjoy whatever they did behind closed doors (and elsewhere, but that was another matter). Well, he hadn’t seen it coming that the twins would pursue Prowl, just like he hadn’t seen Jazz affection, but it underlined his point, even if not in the most fortunate way.

 

It had admittedly been a long time ago, but one night the red and blue mech had actually seen Jazz and Prowl make out quite passionately in the rec room. It was also true, that they had been so overcharged he doubted that they had gotten very far that time, but Optimus had been so sure to notice a growing relationship between them and respected what he had thought was their wish to keep secret. He had assumed sooner or later they would approach him with the wish to bond. It wasn’t necessary that they asked for his blessing on the matter, but he was nonetheless grateful that his soldiers had taken up that `tradition´. It smoothed his spark to be included in matters not war related.

 

Still, as grave as they were, his problems with Jazz weren’t all that troubled him. There was also the matter of the war being impossible to win, for both sides, actually, that weighted heavy on him. Megatron would never give in and someone _had_ to oppose him, but aside from that had the rift between their fractions grown so large, even if they could end it one way or the other, they would never be one kind again. There was too much bad blood, so to speak, between the sides and it had been too long. Even he wouldn’t know what to do with himself, if they didn’t need to fight anymore and yet it was his job to promise that one day they would have peace again.

 

They fought to get their old lives back, or a better one than before, but they were warriors now and would always be. The war would forever be a part of them. It would probably be best for everyone, if they were stranded on some other planet not inhibited by anyone else, where they could continue their war until no one was left to fight, while the rest of their race moved on. There were certainly enough Cybertronians left who hadn’t been involved too deeply and could live in peace. He had to believe that or this whole war would be absolutely pointless.

 

Sighing Optimus looked around in his empty office. This was usually the moment Jazz came wandering in, as if he had a special sense telling him when the Prime needed to be cheered up or distracted, and convinced him one way or the other that it wasn’t so bad, that it would be difficult, but that they could work it out somehow.

 

Those days were surely over now. Even the dumbest mech could predict that the saboteur would be anything but amicable towards him now, but the red and blue had meant well, he really had. Not just that he was convinced that, as the Prime, he simple wouldn’t have the time to pay as much attention to a mate as they deserved, it was also a matter of jealousy that was bound to come up when he favoured one over the others, not to mention the leverage it would give Megatron.

 

Pf. So much for `wisdom of the matrix´. From his point of view all he had gotten was the responsibility, but certainly no wisdom. He didn’t have a single clue what to do now, except find someone who could give him an advice, but he didn’t need the matrix for that and sadly the list of people he could ask was growing very short these days. The first on his list, Jazz ... no explanation needed there. Prowl was also angry at him and currently very busy with things Optimus really didn’t want to think too closely into and right now he was rather glad Ratchet and Ironhide had left. In fact, he would try to avoid them for a while.

 

Now that he was thinking about it, he should probably try to avoid a whole lot of people for a while.

 

*~*~*~*~*

 

“Prowl, do you have a moment? I need an advice.”

 

The tactician looked up from his data pad, optics too bright and unfocused. Usually that would have been a reason for concern, but considering that the twins hadn’t let him out of their quarters for a whole week, safe one (false) alarm, it was excusable. He needed a moment to recognise the Prime, but otherwise his mind was still as sharp as ever.

 

“That depends. Is it of professional or private nature?”

 

“That would make a difference?”

 

“Indeed. As your second in command, head tactician and fellow Autobot I will gladly see what I can do about whatever comes up concerning those fields. However, when it comes to private matters I’m first and foremost one of Jazz’ closest friends and as such I feel obliged to be angry at you and thus anything but helpful, though I’m struggling to find the logic in that. This matter will not solve itself and without communication you won’t reach a solution and ...”

 

For a moment Optimus feared Prowl would lock up on him – he really didn’t feel like explaining that to Ratchet on top of everything – but then the other just shook his head and was again his composed self, as if he had simply erased the thought.

 

“You were saying?”

 

“I hoped you could give me an advice on how to solve the situation with Jazz, mostly for private reasons, but also for the sake of the Autobots.”

 

For a moment the monochrome mech starred at his leader, though this time it had nothing to do with his new lovers.

 

“ ... Damn you.”

 

Optimus hung his head in acknowledgement of his shame, but patiently waited for Prowl to decide whenever or not he would be helpful. Actually the Prime fully expected to be turned down; he had just wanted to try his luck with the tactician first before trying to convince someone else.

 

“Jazz loves you” Prowl finally said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It probably started as a simple crush, but he’s been over that stage for many vorns already. We are talking about a `ready for lifelong commitment´ kind of love here. He had decided to keep it to himself for sake of the cause and because you never showed interest. The only reason he tried now is because of my interference, so I’m to blame for his misery as much as you are.”

 

Oh. That ... was more direct than he had anticipated and the tactician wasn’t finished yet, cleaning his desk while talking.

 

“From my point of view it is fairly simple what you have to do. Jazz loves Optimus, so you have to stop thinking like a Prime and start to consider what Optimus wants. Get your feelings sorted out and, if you _can_ imagine a relationship with him, go and tell him and then you will apologise and apologise until he tells you to stop apologising and then you apologise for apologising until he either believes you or is annoyed enough to give you a chance. On that note, Jazz isn’t very materialistic, but I’ve never seen him like this before, so you might want to try gifts; just little things, symbolic or pragmatic. If you cannot return his feelings ... well, you better tell him that, too. And you should explain your reasons and that better be _really_ good reasons that have nothing to do with your role as Prime. You own Jazz that much.”

 

“ ... Are you quoting Whoopi Goldberg?”

 

“I might have taken a liking to that actress during movie night. Is that your main concern?”

 

“No, but I’m glad to see you enjoy things outside work ... what if I don’t know how I feel for Jazz?”

 

“Then you better find out. I can’t help you with the how, though. I find the whole topic highly confusing and I doubt you have enough time to wait until I’m done with my research. If the Decepticons find out about this whole affair, we are in big trouble. They might relay much on strength, but the concept of `divide and conquer´ is most certainly not alien to Megatron” Prowl noted and went to the door to his office.

 

“Is that all? My shift is over and I have an appointment.”

 

“Does this appointment have anything to do with the research you mentioned” the Prime asked, but left the room.

 

“As a matter of fact, yes. I was invited to a ... a _date_ and I find myself highly intrigued by the concept. Also, the twins’ interpretation of human traditions are usually rather entertaining and they assured me that it doesn’t necessarily involve interfacing.”

 

The Prime caught embarrassed.

 

“Yes. Er ... I respect your privacy, but are they ...”

 

“Threatening me well? Naturally. They are very considerate. I’m tempted to believe it’s partly because Jazz somehow – and I don’t think I actually want to know how – made sure they fear upsetting me now more than ever before, but I’m convinced it’s mostly out of their own will. If I’d known that this is the best way to deal with them, I would have considered it earlier.”

 

“Seriously?”

 

“Of course not, but I’m still working on the concept of humour. If you’d excuse me now?”

 

It was certainly strange to see Prowl approach and take the servos of Sunstreaker and Sideswipe without hesitation, but they no doubt would be good for each other. However, that didn’t help Optimus at all with his own problems and Prowl had given him a lot to think about.

 

It would be easy to blame the monochrome mech (or both of them) for not saying anything sooner, but that wouldn’t get them anywhere now. The Prime still believed that he couldn’t be the mate anyone, especially Jazz, deserved, but Prowl was right: he owned the saboteur to decide this solely as Optimus, not Prime, and Optimus certainly liked Jazz very much.

 

For a Prime a third in command and/or head of special ops was replaceable, even if the saboteur was the best for the position on a professional level, but to Opimus Jazz was absolutely _not_ replaceable.

 

The black and white had always been there when he needed him, offering advice, comforting words or just a listening audio and he was very direct. He was the one to bring energon and the latest gossip and back him up no matter if it was out in battle or facing the antics of his crew, though he was also the first to point it out when he thought Optimus was being stupid. That was also something the red and blue mech valued about the other very much: his honesty and total refusal to bow to the command chain whenever he could get away with it, which was pretty much all the time. Jazz treated him like any other mech, or at least had. Jazz wasn’t spiteful, but since he had been released from the med bay he had barely looked at Optimus and only spoken to him when it was absolutely necessary and it hurt more than Optimus had thought it would. He missed their easy companionship already and he also missed those often lingering touches, even if he had before assumed Jazz was simply very tactile.

 

He wanted it back; all those moments he had neglected to value properly before and Optimus was also willing to do almost anything for that, as a mech, not as Prime, but was that enough? Was the little jump his spark sometimes did when he allowed his optics to linger on Jazz an indication for love or just a reaction to the other’s admittedly attractive frame? He knew he wanted back what they had before, but was there room for more?

 

So many questions, so much uncertainty. It would be easier, if he just told Jazz what he thought about the whole matter, as Optimus and also as Prime, because no matter what he wanted, he would always have to be both, but that wouldn’t be fair. He had already caused Jazz enough grief, so he would first make sure he was at least sure about what he wanted. He truly owned them both that much.


	6. Chapter 6

* * *

 

“Ya know, Prime, I really don’t wanna be in ya chassis, but let me tell ya: who ever has made up that slag about the `right moment´ has clearly never been in love. There’s just plenty of `wrong moments´ but not  _the_ right one” Inferno commented amused after listening to his leader spilling his guts, in a metaphorical sense. He was currently the only one left in his crew who the Prime could ask for advice without running risk to be ridiculed and/or have everyone know about it within a moment. Well, and the only one actually still willing to help. Everyone else was either too immature in behaviour or had sided with Jazz already.

 

“To be honest, I’m at a point where I’d be glad for just five minutes without interruption” Optimus grumped, slumping a little in his chair; not as much as he would have liked to, but more than appropriate for a Prime. A very frustrated Prime, he might add. He had thought things through as thoroughly as he could and decided he definitely needed to talk with Jazz, but the very moment he had made up his mind a certain bucket head of a Deceticon leader decided to start a new series or raids. In addition to that did Jazz his best to remind him just why he was head of special ops. The elusiveness of the monochrome was adding greatly to the frustration and Optimus made sure to let Megatron know firsthand just _how_ frustrated he was. Through, for a moment the red and blue considered directing his ire at Inferno for finding humour in his situation

 

“Funny, Jazz said exactly the same thing to Prowl some time ago.”

 

Okay, for an outsider the irony of that could admittedly be entertaining, still ...

 

“Do we need another talk about abusing positions? Because I already have enough problems with Ratchet’s Primus complex.”

 

“But that Primus complex is what keeps to lot of us alive and I’m doing what I can to make Red take up a hobby, any hobby, really, and, in his defence, he’s not telling me anything sensitive and, before ya ask, we decided long ago to only meddle with the affairs of others when directly involved. Besides, ya all know about the cameras so technically ya have no ground to complain.”

 

“Long ago? I thought your relationship was rather new.”

 

“Yeah, but we’ve been _friends_ for a long time before that. Too long, actually. It’s fragging hard to recognise Red’s flirting when ya don’t know what to look for, I tell ya, and even harder to convince him it’s appreciated. Anyway. Like I said: forget about the `right moment´ slag and just go and tell him before its too late, because that can happen fast than any of us would like. Right now would be a good time. He’s ought to be back from patrol any mo ...”

 

The alarm interrupted the fire truck, who looked surprised from the bell to the absolutely not surprised Prime giving him a `see what I mean?´ look.

 

“Ya know, I hate to say it, but one could think ...”

 

“Then don’t say it. In fact, I’d appreciate it, if you wouldn’t even finish that thought.”

 

“It could be worse. Poor Red had to wait a whole month until I could tell him I love him, too, and don’t get me started on Hot Shot and Silverbolt. Remember what their brothers put them through?”

 

“I especially remember Silverbolt marooned on a skyscraper. The city major was absolutely _not_ amused” the red and blue mech countered annoyed. Was really nobody ever considering the political mess he had to deal with afterwards when they pulled such stunts? Apparently not. Worst of all, Prowl had been in Europe that time, leaving Prime to clean up the mess and ... Primus, but he really was pushing a lot of his work towards the tactician.

 

“But it did have its good sides. I mean, seriously, Bolt handing the seekers, Menasor _and_ Devastator their afts singlehanded had been a sight to behold and, from what I’ve heard, their quarters are now in an almost accessible state.”

 

The speakers in the room came to life with Red Alert’s nearly neutral voice.

 

_#When you’re done with your recollection, there has been an alarm and I seriously doubt Megatron will leave the reservoir dam alone if we just ignore him!#_

*~*~*

 

Something about this battle was off, but it weren’t the Decepticons and their seemingly endless antics, it was him. Optimus couldn’t concentrate, his thoughts only ever circling around Jazz, as they had for a while now, but now it was even worse.

 

He certainly wasn’t the mech the monochrome deserved, but, slag it all, the Prime _wanted_ to be that mech more than anything else. He wanted to be everything the saboteur wanted and needed, because Jazz was all what Prime _and_ Optimus wanted and needed and he was sick and tired of having to distinguish between the two parts of his life and of being lonely. Jazz had already proven that he cared about him as a whole. Prime wasn’t sure in how far he could handle the different sides of the black and white himself, but he would try and, if he had to apologise for being so blind for so long for the next thousand years or so, he would try to make this right again. He just hoped it wasn’t too late already.

 

“Look out!”

 

Pulled out of his thoughts the red and blue indeed focused back on his surroundings, but all he saw was a familiar monochrome frame and a bright light, followed by an impact and the also familiar feeling of the ground giving in under him, except that this time it wasn’t mud.

 

Well, of course it wasn’t mud. The humans wouldn’t build a dam on and out of mud, not in these parts of the world anyway, meaning he actually got something between his servos when he gripped the edge.

 

After the first moment of shock Optimus quickly tried to asset the situation. He was literally hanging on the edge; not an optimal situation, but opposed to falling pretty deep it was a plus. He had also managed to grab Jazz, which was also a plus, except that the mech wasn’t moving and he couldn’t bend far enough to see, if he was alright.

 

Spacing out while fighting on a reservoir dam; not a good idea. Drowning in guild while hanging between life and death: just as bad.

 

Groaning. So Jazz was still alive; also a plus, but then the edge gave in.

 

*~*~*~*~*

 

“Ugn. Sweet Primus, my head. Ah hate these déjà vus!”

 

“I wish it were just that, but I fear you just end up in the med bay far too often lately” Prowl replied calmly from his usual spot next to Jazz’ berth.

 

“That, too. Hey, bring a little light into the dark, will ya? What happened this time?”

 

“Except that your visor was broken and Wheeljack hasn’t gotten around to make you a new one yet? You shouldn’t try to sit up.”

 

“Explains the lack of visual input” Jazz mumbled and squeezed the servo in his, grateful for the contact. “So Ratch got that induction field on again, I assume and ... Ah _am_ in the med bay, right?”

 

“Yes. After that fall ...” the tactician broke up, but with the way his grip became stronger all of the sudden it wasn’t difficult to guess that it had been either the med bay or the grave yard. Not that grave yards were part of cybertronian culture, but that was off the point.

 

“That bad?”

 

“How much do you remember?”

 

“Well, got back patrol, alarm, old Binhead up to his usual slag, though there had been a distinct lack in strange super weapons. Guess they can’t afford to build a new one every time.”

 

“What about jumping between Optimus and a certain fusion canon?”

 

“ ... Ah did?”

 

“Indeed. And then you both fell off the dam.”

 

“ ... I kind of wish you would be kidding right now.”

 

“I’m not. How often do we have to go through that?”

 

A valid point. Of all the things the tactician might ever come to crack a joke about, it certainly would never be battle tactics or medical conditions.

 

“But that was freaking high! How did that not ... ‘s the Big Guy alright?”

 

Prowl sighed, for once actually glad that Jazz was completely blind without his visor – not helpless or anything of the like. He had seen the monochrome do missions in this state that most mechs wouldn’t manage even with perfect sight – because that spared the other the sight of their leader on the neighbouring berth. He looked worse than it was ... well, now that Ratchet was done with him anyway. It was still for the better Jazz couldn’t see that.

 

“Going by the amount of cursing Ratchet graced this room with, he will soon be back on his pedes. May I point out you are still angry at him, or at least pretending to?”

 

“Doesn’t mean Ah’ll just let him die. On that note, how many limbs am Ah missing?”

 

“What gives you that idea?”

 

“The intensity of the induction field and my balance is off.”

 

“But you’re laying ... right, special ops. Why do I even ask?”

 

Jazz grinned, only mildly surprised that his right leg was missing from the knee joint downwards. He would have expected something much severe.

 

“I fear Ratchet insists on attaching it while you are online.”

 

“‘s that all? Are ye sure we’re talking about the same dam here? Because the one Ah remember was high enough to make falling down dangerous on a very real level.”

 

“There was no other dam.”

 

“Then Ah’m here for a while already.”

 

“That depends. I wouldn’t call four days long. Most of the damage you received was either from Megatron or superficial.”

 

As unpredictable as Jazz usually was, Prowl had expected the other to try to get up and held him down with ease.

 

“OP did something stupid, didn’t he?”

 

“He caught your fall with his own body” the tactician replied calmly, internally bracing himself for the other’s reaction. “The water carried you off; we needed a few hours to find you and he refused to let anyone near him until you were taken care of.”

 

The saboteur’s vents hitched and his grip hardened

 

“I’ll be honest: he didn’t look good at all, but Ratchet assured us it was only half as bad.”

 

“Ya realise half the time he says that, he’s actually lying?”

 

“I’m very aware of that, but I’m certain he was honest when he said Optimus will make a full recovery in time.”

 

The grip loosened slightly and the monochrome sighed. That was at least something, but Prowl wasn’t finished yet.

 

“Jazz? I know it’s your own decision, but I have it on good notice that he wants to talk with you. Will you at least hear him out, please? If not for yourself, then for me. I hate to see you miserable.”

 

The other didn’t reply at first. That was a lot to swallow for just coming online up in med bay and Prowl playing absently with his fingers like he often did with his stylus was actually a bit distracting, though not unwelcome, but it reminded him of something else.

 

“Ye say Ah’ve been here for four days? If Ah promise to hear him out, will ye go to ye lovers then?”

 

The tactician bristled.

 

“They aren’t ... well, they are, I guess, but ... I can’t ... You are my best friend, Jazz. That will not change just because I somehow managed to attract the interest of someone else.”

 

“Prowler, serious, Ah’m an adult mech. Ah know ye’re far too loyal to just dumb me for someone else, but Ah also know the three of ye well enough ta know ye spent the majority of the last four days with me and that it makes them antsy, even if they claim it’s alright.”

 

“They ... are surprisingly insecure about our relationship” the monochrome mumbled. He had been aware the twins had issues, everyone had them after all, but he had yet to find the courage to approach them about it and he missed them, though Ratchet had let them sneak in now and then. It made him assume their medic was also bothered greatly by something. Hopefully the Decepticons would stop their assaults soon so that they all could at least _try_ to solve their personal dramas.

 

“Ratchet will certainly return soon and then we will see about that. I will not leave you here alone and that is final.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The mentioned happenings with the sky scraper and Silverbolt are a reference to "Fly High".


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember that PTSD tag? Yeah, well, that comes to play here. It's nothign graphic or anything, but I figured I should mention it beforehand.
> 
> Also, I remember that this chapter fought me tooth and nail every step of the way, so ... yeah, it's not great, but good enough, I guess.

* * *

 

Losing consciousness was never pleasant in any way or form, since it was usually connected with pain and when things went really bad you came around and wished you didn’t. It left you helpless and when – or if, depending on the situation – you came online again you had no clue where you were, what happened and what would happen to you in the foreseeable future.

 

He had heard many express that the worst part was actually recognising the orange ceiling of the med bay, because it meant Ratchet couldn’t be too far away, but Optimus actually thought it was the best part. It greatly limited the possible places he was at, for one. Humans couldn’t reproduce this hue as far as he knew and even Megatron wasn’t cruel enough to make prisoners believe they were in the safety of the Autobot med bay ... well, or he had never thought of it.

 

Aside from that the Prime also had to admit that he took a certain personal pleasure from a good old fashioned dressing down curtsey of Ratchet. If everything else failed, at least they were all equal in that. Not exactly what he had had in mind with the slogan, but better than nothing.

 

“I’m growing too attached to them.”

 

Optimus tensed up. Yes, he `liked´ what being scolded by their medic symbolised, but the flying tools that more often than not came with it were something entirely else. Then again, Ratchet’s voice sounded too far away, too soft, to be directed at him. The other mech was far too fond of his own reputation to let patients hear him talk like that, unless said patient was a youngling or a youngling not used to Ratchet yet was present. Considering that they hadn’t seen a youngling in ages (not counting the combiners, but they were only young in mind) and, thank Primus, nobody had so far tried to procreate. Not that he was opposed to the thought in general, but there was a time and a place for that and on an alien planet in the middle of a war was not it.

 

Summed up: there were no young ones in the Ark, so something had to be very wrong and the Prime had a feeling him being here had not necessarily anything to do with that.

 

“So am I. We knew beforehand that would happen and we warned them.”

 

Ah, so the medic was talking with Ironhide. That explained it of course. It sounded like an intimate discussion and the leader of the Autobots felt rather uncomfortable witnessing it. Despite or maybe because of the long time those two had been bonded already, the pair wasn’t exactly public with their affection and would most likely not react friendly, if they ever found out he witnessed this exchange. On the other hand didn’t he have much of a choice. Any attempt to speak up resulted in nothing, not even static, so all the red and blue could do was hold still and pray they would either stop or go somewhere else.

 

“We warned Magnus, we warned Optimus and also Prowl. Don’t tell me next time I will have to warn you, too.”

 

“That is the problem: next time.”

 

He shouldn’t be hearing that, he really shouldn’t, but he did and just like Ironhide Optimus realised the gravity of Ratchet’s words. `Next time´ would either mean the pair would, independent of reason, leave the team that was growing more and more into a sort of dysfunctional family, or lose them, likely to war, maybe to something else. It was a fear most, if not all of them shared to some extent and in the back of his mind Optimus had been aware the medic was anything but pleased about recent developments, not just because of his profession, but with his natural grumpiness and by default irritable character it was hard to tell how much something really bothered him.

 

“Aw, Ratch, don’t worry. So far they have proven to be resistant little fraggers and you’re the best medic they could get. They’ll be fine.”

 

“And what when the time comes that I’m not good enough anymore? What if ...?”

 

The door to Ratchet’s office clicked shut and Optimus felt guilty for being relieved that he didn’t have to listen any longer. He should be concerned about the troubles of his people and he was, but – left aside that Ironhide was no doubt better qualified at comforting his bondmate than anyone else – this particular problem was something he couldn’t change. He had learned the hard way that concerning himself with (too many) things he couldn’t do anything about just limited time and energy better used on things that he _could_ change.

 

Well, the number of things he could do right now was limited to brooding about what he had done this time to end up in the med bay. He was coming up blank in that regard and decided going by exclusion would be a good start.

 

The twins were too busy with Prowl, so it couldn’t have been a prank gone out of hand, not to mention that the red hellion knew his art and hadn’t caused anything actually dangerous in ages. Optimus knew better than to randomly drop by in Wheeljack’s lab and the inventor was currently not working on anything that needed to be brought to his attention and thus could have blown up into his face, so it was highly unlikely that was the reason.

 

He couldn’t speak and movement was very limited. He couldn’t see much, but he guessed he wasn’t fully repaired yet and very likely within one of Ratchet’s prized inductive fields. That meant he had probably been damaged badly, again, which partly explained the medic’s mood. He also had this nagging feeling that whatever had brought him here had been his own fault and he would have to apologise to someone aside from Ratchet. That was a recent trend after all. Question was whom he had offended this time. The list was already long enough anyway. Prowl would probably be a good start. The tactician could hold grudges, it wasn’t even funny anymore, but at least he was always willing to discuss matters, left aside that it was generally not recommendable to mess with him in the first place. He was one scary enemy to have, not to mention that offending him now triggered also the twins’ unholy wrath and they definitely weren’t up to discussing anything calmly, ever. Seriously, as if his problems with Jazz weren’t enough already to ...

 

Sweet Primus, Jazz!

 

Right, they had fought the Decepticons. Jazz had protected him and then there had been something involving a dam, but surely they hadn’t ... Primus, he hoped Jazz was alright. He might not remember, but he was pretty sure to have done what he could to make sure of that – there was no way he could ever forgive himself, if he hadn’t – so it was likely the monochrome mech was also in the med bay. Optimus knew better than anyone else, safe maybe Ratchet and Starscream, what nasty wounds that fusion canon could cause.

 

Shortest way to find out would be to have a look around ... except that sitting up didn’t work.

 

Right. Med bay. So he probably _did_ fall off that dam after all. Ratchet was going to _kill_ him, but he couldn’t worry about that now.

 

Mentally shaking that thought off Optimus was pleasantly surprised to find out that at least he could turn his head, but that he found the black and white in question on the berth right next to him ... Jazz was alive, that much was sure, and the Prime had assumed he would be here, but he didn’t actually want Jazz in the med bay. He wanted him alive and whole and a whole lot of other things he wouldn’t get, because he had been stupid, but not here, because it meant the other was hurt.

 

Noticing the missing visor Optimus felt a wave of relieve that at least the saboteur wasn’t awake on top of everything else. The Prime wasn’t privy to how Jazz had lost his optics, but that it had traumatised the mech was obvious. Since then being without his visor, without the ability to see even if there was nothing to see, left him ... Optimus hesitated to use `terrified´ in the context with Jazz, but it was the closest to the truth he could get with words alone.

 

If the subtle differences between `Prowl at Jazz berth in med bay´ and `Prowl at Jazz berth in med bay when Jazz’ visor was broken/lost´ were anything to go by, sound and/or touch helped a lot. Considering that Optimus was currently rendered mute and mostly unable to move it was indeed _very_ good Jazz was unconscious. Prowl would have never left, if he thought the other black and white would come around any time soon ... unless he had relied on Ratchet to rant Jazz into oblivion and the medic had clearly not been in a good shape earlier.

 

Frag. If only he could speak or at least move some more to make sure. Just a bit, with the servo to the edge of the berth. Maybe Ratchet hadn’t turned the induction field up as high as he feared the other had. It was unlikely, but possible the medic had just left him immobile as punishme- ... no. The pain indicated he was really `that bad off´. Primus, he hadn’t known that particular fraction of his arm could hurt so much, but that didn’t matter. He had to work through the pain that intensified with every bit he worked closer to the other mech. Important was only that he managed to reach Jazz’ berth and pull along it until he found the other’s servo, buried so deep into the metal it surely was dented.

 

So Jazz was online and caught in silence and darkness and whatever horrors replayed in his head for who knew how long already.

 

Optimus didn’t hesitate to grab said servo, but as so often his good intentions made it worse. He hadn’t considered that the monochrome had no way of knowing who was touching him and for what reason. Of course that had to scare him even more, but just when Optimus wanted to let go again Jazz latched on even stronger.

 

“Frag it, OP. Ye could have just said something.”

 

The other mech sounded more strained than the part of him Optimus could see appeared to be, but that was probably because of special ops training. He had once asked Jazz’ predecessor about a crash course, wanting to learn and understand the units he commanded better, but with the way that mech had looked at him and said that there were things most just were `better off not known´ he had concluded to himself that special ops were called that for a very good reason and to never underestimate them.

 

Unable to give a verbal reply the larger tightened his grip and rubbed the back of Jazz’ servo with his thumb.

 

“Pissed of Ratch?”

 

Optimus squeezed an affirmative and watched Jazz nod out of habit.

 

“Eh, should have guessed as much. Prowler mentioned a dam. Falling down and refusing repairs will probably go down in history as the most stupid stunt ye ever pulled.”

 

Refusing repairs? Yes, that was a stupid thing to say to Ratchet, but given their situation he made an educated guess and said he had done it because of the mech next to him.

 

“For the record, Ah’m still angry at ye ... but thanks anyway.”

 

Great. They were finally alone, could talk and Jazz was probably even willing to listen to him now (as far as consent went when neither of them could leave) and Optimus was rendered mute. Someone or something must have a good laugh at their expense right now

 

Ah, well, but they were both alive and sooner or later Ratchet would have to turn his vocaliser on and, even if he would need to corner Jazz in the filled rec room, he would get that talk with him. Until then this was also quite nice ... except for the section of his arm outside their inductive fields, but he could ignore that.

 

“If ye dare ta let go Ah will find a way ta hurt ye.”

 

Again the larger tightened his grip, but this time held the pressure. He held it when Jazz slipped into recharge and through Ratchet coming back in what he assumed was the middle of the night and pushing their berths together under curses. The medic promised new levels of pain and humiliation, but they both knew he wouldn’t go through with them.

 

“Ye so own me for this whole slag” Jazz commented dryly when they were alone again and turned to Optimus.

 

The red and blue pulled the other’s servo to his chest.

 

“ ... Okay, no. Ah will not have that talk with ya like this. Too much room for misunderstandings. Now let’s rest before Ratch comes back.”

 

The Prime grinned to himself. It wasn’t what he had had in mind at all, but Jazz was laying next to him and not quite as angry anymore as he had been and had, technically speaking, promised they would talk later and, really, he was starting to appreciate this strange situation.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mentioned the last chapter fought me? Well, this one was worse and I'm not happy with it. At all, but I remember that when I reached this point I just wanted to finish this, so ... yeah, it's not at all what I wanted, but readable.

* * *

 

Optimus had never believed himself to be easily frightened, but the prospect of entering this room now had him in a right fit and without any justified reason, to add insult to ... well, not injury, not anymore at least. Jazz and him had been released from the med bay in `prime condition´. They had even survived expressing their concern about Ratchet horrible word play, not to mention everything that had transpired before that. Not that much had happened and the Prime wasn’t sure, if he should be grateful for that or throttle someone.

 

Ratchet hadn’t raged, which stood testament to how badly off how they had really been, as did the time it had taken for them to be released. Jazz visor had been the first thing to be restored – of course it was. Nobody wanted to be on the same planet as a nervous, not to mention panicking head of special ops – Optimus’ voice one of the last. As it turned out their medic hadn’t extracted revenge by disabling it, the sand in the river had actually damaged the voice body badly enough to justify external maintenance.

 

It made their discussion about feelings and their implications for the future very one sided, but, well, Jazz seemed truly pleased to be able to rant and vent his frustrations especially about a certain thick headed leader so oblivious he wouldn’t recognise a hint when it hit him in the face. Also, these rants were reserved for when they were at least remotely alone, which was seldom, and Ratchet insisted that they rested a lot, because obviously they had been on the brink of death to the point that it was generally assumed the sudden lack of Decepticon activity was due to them celebrating their victory and making insane plans what to do with world domination.

 

The last part had actually led to some minor arguments about whether or not they should tell human authorities not to worry, but in the end they didn’t. Word would just get back to the Decepticons, who no doubt would instantly take up their efforts again and everyone could use a break. Additionally was the metaphorical fear of Primus nothing compared to the very literal fear of Ratchet and, if the medic said no word to anyone until the med bay was cleared of any and all patients, then everyone kept their traps shut for an additional week afterwards and prepared in silence for the diplomatic nightmare that was to follow with the humans. It was the lesser of two evil in any case.

 

So grumpy medic and diplomatic nightmare on one side, well rested Autobots and a chance of a romantic relationship with Jazz on the other side. The later two points however also meant bored mechs and an opportunity for them to do something against that boredom, which meant hell to pay for Optimus (because the hierarchy of `people not to mess with´ was lead by Ratchet and Jazz, followed by Prowl and Wheeljack and only then came the Prime, with the twins a constant wild card depending on their mood.

 

He knew he would receive mockery, he knew he _deserved_ mockery, but that didn’t mean Optimus was particularly willing to submit himself to that voluntarily. To him it sounded like doing jet-judo in plain sight of Ratchet, get mauled and then hobble over to medic and ask nicely, if he could put you back together so you can go for a second round.

 

Primus only knew how Sideswipe was still alive.

 

“Ah sure hope ye have a good explanation for why Ah woke up alone.”

 

Oh dear. That was possibly worse than antagonising Ratchet.

 

“I ... well, I wanted to get you energon, to the berth, as a surprise ... it’s rather silly, isn’t it?”

 

“A bit ... but also cute” Jazz grinned and dragged Optimus into the rec room and ... nothing happened. No cat calls – the monochrome _had_ spent the night in Optimus’ berth, but nobody could know that they really had only recharged, because of their medic’s orders and because they were old and experienced enough to know better and he knew most mechs here were absolutely unable to get their heads out of the proverbial gutter – no ambivalent comments, just the usual greetings and maybe a badly hidden smirk more than on any other morning, additional to the `glad to see you up and about´ that was to be expected after a prolonged stay in the med bay.

 

Jazz went for his usual booth, seemingly his usual self, while Optimus recognised himself to be tense and obviously so as he got their energon. It wasn’t the silly romantic gesture he had originally planned, but so far nothing had gone according to plan.

 

Awkwardly the Peterbuilt sat down opposite of the smaller, only to have the saboteur instantly scoot over and melt against his side with a slag eating grin that never bode well for anyone.

 

“Primus, but ye’ve really not done this in a long time, have ya?”

 

“I rather not talk about that.”

 

“Yeah, Ah’ll take that as an affirmative. Okay, so here is the thing: after all this slag Ah insist on the whole level of crazy in this. Ah want to go on dates, have long walks, exchange silly gifts, everything. As long as we’re grounded we need to be a bit creative with that, but we’ll make due. Same applies to our jobs. Won’t be perfect, but Ah’m adaptable.”

 

Belatedly the Prime had to realise that `I will try my best to please you´ was as much an admittance that he didn’t actually know what he got himself into as it invited leery comments that ... remained suspiciously absent. To make matters worse was the red and blue mech also rather sure the other didn’t take it with quite as much ease as he pretended to.

 

It hit him with sudden clarity that this wasn’t easy for either of them. It was raw and new and admittedly rather scary and the only difference between them was that Jazz was used to hide things and accordingly better at it.

 

They would need to talk about that, hiding things, and not just because (recent) history had proven Optimus to be oblivious as nothing else. Actually they needed to talk about many things, as soon as possible, preferable even sooner.

 

Primus, what a mess.

 

“Jazz, I ...”

 

“Good as it is to see you two up and about” Bumblebee interrupted. “You really shouldn’t have this kind of talk here. It’s only so long we can keep our traps shut.”

 

It was so easy to forget that the small, friendly yellow mech was actually part of special ops, but in moments like this, when he appear seemingly out of nowhere although it should actually be impossible for all of them to sneak like that, it showed.

 

“You mean ...”

 

“We’re holding back on the obligatory teasing and it’s killing some of us, so let me make it short: you got our blessings, little as you need it, so take your time to work this out, but please do that in private. We _will_ tease you about it in due time, but don’t actually want to _witness_ it.”

 

“That might have been the scariest conversation Ah’ve ever had with him” Jazz admitted when Bumblebee had left their table again. “In any case the strangest.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Not even close, but Bee got a point. Much as Ah appreciate the thought, we really ought to relocate.”

 

Optimus had to agree and, if they hastened to drink their energon and leave, no one called them out on it, at least not while in hearing range, but not a moment later Prowl was at their side and steered them into his own quarters with a single minded determination that neither Prime nor saboteur dared to argue. They also didn’t comment on it when they were handed a data pad and ordered to not leave until they had at least covered half the points on it for the sake of everyone, especially themselves.

 

“Prowler, not that Ah, _we_ , don’t appreciate it, but why and why here?”

 

“You have both proven rather capable to mess things up and, if you argue, neither of you will be forced to recharge in a room attached to bad memories.”

 

“And what about you?”

 

“Well, they wouldn’t be _my_ bad memories now, would they? And I haven’t actually spend much time here even before I acquired new lodgings” the tactician said calmly and left them again.

 

“Ah get the feeling Ah should have seen that coming, but, really, Ah didn’t.”

 

“Somehow I had hoped that the twins would discourage from ... this” the red and blue lamely stated, waving the data pad around.

 

“Well, it is just one pad. That’s an improvement. Lemme see that.”

 

Optimus handed the pad over and tried to get comfortable, tried being the operating word. He had been here before and thus wasn’t surprised that the quarters were more comfortable than one would assume from the mech, but being here without Prowl actually being present felt rather inappropriate and he wasn’t sure what to make of Jazz not showing any amusement over the pad’s content and sitting down opposite of the larger mech.

 

“Ah don’t even know how to answer the first one.”

 

_What do you expect from a relationship in general and with each other in special?_

 

“Oh.”

 

There wasn’t much more to say to that. It was a good question, an important one that they really should answer, but how? `Everything´ was as true as it was wrong, the same went for `nothing´. Everything he could get, but nothing the other wasn’t willing to offer freely? That was at least closer and the frustrating part was that Optimus had actually thought about this, had it all figured out in his head, but now that he was no longer stuck in the med bay he didn’t know what to say.

 

How did other people do this? Well, likely not at all, but that was the problem with not being `other people´.

 

Honesty would be a good idea. In any case better than to build anything on lies.

 

“I don’t know what to expect. I can’t remember when I last had an relationship and I mean that in earnest. I know I tried once or twice, but can’t remember.”

 

“Ah can’t remember when Ah had the last one that was more than just physical and wasn’t job related, so we’re pretty even in that, Ah guess” Jazz sighed and made grapping motions. Optimus handed the pad back and watched the other scan the contents again.

 

“Right. Maybe we should, Ah dunno, table that question and try something else first, get a feeling for where we stand with each other. Here. Physical attraction.”

 

“You are most pleasing to the optics” the large replied, too distracted to go more into detail, which might be just as well. He wasn’t very good at reading people – he could determining if they were good or bad, to put it simple, honest or lying, but that was the extent of it – but now that he knew what to look for it was plain as day that the monochrome was nervous, scared even, going by how much he forced himself to appear relaxed. It was just not right. They weren’t preparing for battle, weren’t planning a suicide mission, they were sitting safe and sound in the very heart of the Ark with not even Ratchet’s ire to fear for the moment.

 

“The image of ye made my lonely nights more fun as well” the head of special ops shot back grinning, but it was forced and that was enough to prevent the Prime from sputtering too much.

 

“Okay, so we are definitely physically attracted to each other. Next one. _Attraction exceeding physical attributes_. Without going into detail, that’s a yes on my side, though Ah’ll admit some of your quirks drive me up the walls, but even they are kind of cute, in small doses.”

 

“The feeling is definitely mutual.”

 

“Good to know. Emotional attachment?”

 

“Nothing ever scared me as much as the thought of losing you, be it to war or my own failings.”

 

It was the truth and one of the few things the larger knew how to put into words that were clear and simple, but that didn’t mean Optimus didn’t take a certain pleasure from having rendered Jazz speechless. That is, it would probably be more entertaining, if he didn’t have to start fearing the other actually broke something.

 

“Jazz?”

 

No reaction.

 

“Jazz, talk with me.”

 

“Hm? Ah, sorry there, OP. Spaced out for a moment.”

 

“Jazz, you do many things, but spacing out is usually not one of them. Should I be worried?”

 

“Nah, not about that.”

 

“But about something else” Optimus concluded with a frown and the smaller did not betray the truth by wincing or any such other notion, but he did not deny it either. The red and blue didn’t press the point, but waited for the other to sort his thoughts.

 

Maybe it was because of the room, since the saboteur was more the `thinking on his pedes´ kind of mech, or whatever weighted on his thoughts was serious enough for even him to slow down. Needless to say that didn’t bode well with Optimus, especially with Jazz’ gloomy expression, but hurrying this along would certainly not make it better.

 

“Ah just realised why Ah don’t try for serious relationships” the monochrome finally said and slumped in his seat. He had expected trouble, the Prime admitted to himself, but that was worse, yet he still waved his hand in a `go on´ motion and hoped he appeared calmer than he was.

 

“Honesty and fidelity. Ah expect it from my long term partners, but Ah can’t offer it in return. It’s a big deal and unfair and all matters of things, but that’s the way it is.”

 

Wow. That ... it was a big deal, alright. Not exactly what Optimus had expected, but bad enough in its own right.

 

“It’s the job. Ah need to keep secrets from everyone for everyone’s sake and, if Ah need to fuck a Con to keep my cover or that of my lads in place, Ah’d do it, did it.”

 

That threw up a whole lot of new horrors and the taller instantly reached out to grasp a servo. Yes, special ops did things that were morally questionable at best and he was better off not knowing, but he had still hoped that there were lines, things that his comrades, his _friends_ weren’t forced to sacrifice for this stupid war or forced to do in general, ever.

 

“Don’t make that face, OP. We make sure recruits know from the start what they get into, repeat over and over during training and, if there is any hint that they aren’t up to it, they get kicked out. There is a _reason_ we are such an exclusive bunch and it doesn’t all have to do with possible suicide missions or lacking skills. Maybe in the future we should lay stronger emphasis on what a killer of long-term relationships it is, metaphorically. Not that it isn’t heavily implied with the working hours, undercover missions and general danger. Not that Ah thought Ah’d want an actual relationship that time, mind, but Ah can’t remember anyone explicitly warning me that it won’t be possible.”

 

Optimus Prime was an oblivious fool. He knew that, had been aware of it even before the recent happenings (though the magnitude surprised him), but he was neither stupid nor blind. Jazz usually made it harder to read him by being, well, Jazz, but the rambling and tension were a dead giveaway of how much this truly stressed the monochrome mech, which was to say a lot.

 

For a moment he felt the need to say something, anything to make it better, but managed to reign that in. It wouldn’t be fair to either of them to promise what he couldn’t hold, no matter how much he wished he could hold them and hold Jazz and ... Primus, but this was a mess. Relationships shouldn’t be so difficult, least of all when they were still discussing ,if they even could _have_ a relationship.

 

He leaned back again, needed a bit distance to think, but didn’t let go. He couldn’t say why, but it seemed incredible important all of the sudden to not let go.

 

“It will not be an issue here.”

 

“Not really, no, but Ah sure hope we’re not stuck here forever.”

 

That he didn’t want to get involved just for it all to come crumbling down later went unsaid; that he didn’t want it to crumble for _any_ reason was heavily implied and Optimus thought.

 

He had never before been in this position and found he could not predict how he would react. The thought of sharing Jazz caused a wave of possessive that was new and slightly frightening and the red and blue instantly pushed it down again. The smaller was a highly social creature; a jealous ping now and then was one thing, possessiveness a road that would lead to losing Jazz even sooner than anything else and that was even scarier. He had meant it when he said nothing ever scared him as much as the thought of losing the other, but was that enough and was it such a good idea to base a relationship on that?

 

Step by step, that’s what he had to do.

 

“I understand the honesty part. I wouldn’t _want_ you to be honest, if it endangered others, and I hazard a guess and say I don’t actually want to know about most things anyway, so I can understand and accept that you have to lie about probably huge parts of your job, but what about personal, private matters? You can talk with me freely about your feelings, wants and needs, right? Because I’m really not good at guessing.”

 

There was a tiny twitch in the corner of Jazz’ mouth.

 

“Yeah, Ah can do that. Takes a bit getting used to, but Ah can try. What about ...?”

 

“I don’t know. I honestly can’t say how I will deal with that if it becomes an issue. I wish I could just say I can deal with it and I like to think I could, but I don’t know for sure. Does ... does it happen often?”

 

“That depends. It’s mostly an issue with deep cover infiltration, actually, or when time is an issue. Ye won’t believe how talkative some get when you push the right buttons, but most, myself included, try to avoid it.”

 

Optimus nodded, still struggling with this new information, but always his thoughts circled back to not wanting to lose whatever they were and might become over job specifics, especially jobs he hoped they could one day, soon preferable, lay down, never mind that it wasn’t even an issue as long as they were stuck on this planet. And, really, they had yet to find out, if this relationship could even work. For all he knew they could be at each other’s throats within the year. Not that he _wanted_ that to happen, but to not even try because of something that might never matter? That would be a waste of potential and the Prime told Jazz as much after he had pulled the smaller in his lab.

 

It wasn’t exactly a very comfortable position, neither quite sure where to put their limbs, but some shuffling later it ... well, actually it still wasn’t very comfortable, but at least not as uncomfortable anymore as before.

 

“So ye’re suggesting we just see where this goes and tackle issues as they come up? Ah don’t like giving up without even trying, but after what happened last time ... Ah don’t think Ah can go through that again, OP. Ah don’t _wanna_ go through that again.”

 

“You won’t have to. I can’t promise we won’t argue, but we are both adults and can learn from our mistakes. Aside from me being oblivious and stubborn, I believe our biggest problem was that we assumed instead of talking and, like I said, nothing ever scared me as much as the thought of losing you. I believe we can work with that. I will respect your decision, but I’d really like to at least try, if you are willing as well.”

 

Jazz made a thoughtful noise and was very silent for a while, then ...

 

“Oh, to the Pits with it. Ah’ve tackled missions with worse odds, so count me in. Ye only live once, right? Ah still insist on dates and the whole deal, just so ye know, and Ah have one more issue Ah want to address before we move on.”

 

“Which is?” the red and blue mech asked, positively giddy, if slightly dreadful regarding this `issue´.

 

“Take this stupid mask off and kiss me already, or so help me Ah will kick ye down the next dam myself!”


	9. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit for this goes mostly to [_Ynnep_](http://ynnep.deviantart.com/) from DeviantArt. It was their idea and allowed me a nice endfor a story I was close to giving up on.

* * *

 

He would not panic. He had moved past panicking and with good reason. He had panicked when he had prepared their picnic/date, he had panicked when Jazz had not turned up for said picnic/date and then he had stopped panicking in favour of keeping Sunstreaker and Prowl from panicking about Sideswipe, who had been on patrol with Jazz, not returning or at least calling in.

 

From there it had been comparatively easy to keep calm, brief interruption when they discovered the patrol had been ambushed leaving Sideswipe looking worse than Ratchet insisted it was and Jazz bot-napped by the Decepticons notwithstanding. That was the beauty of emergency protocols after all: he didn’t need to panic, only follow the steps they had actually written down just in case the high command was be compromised by panicking.

 

1)    Make sure the individual in question had really been bot-napped and wasn’t laying in a ditch or hanging in a tree close by

2)    Make sure the accused party is actually the one having the missing individual in question

3)    If possible contact said party and negotiate ransom

4)    Prepare to get ambushed/tricked while delivering the ~~decoy~~ ransom

5)    Rescue bot-napped individual and deliver some serious aft kicking

6)    Return to base and suffer check up with Ratchet and debriefing with Prowl

 

Considering that he had needed quite a while and a lot of stealth that truly didn’t come natural to a mech of Optimus’ size to prepare a surprise picnic for their anniversary, the Prime felt it was justified the skip steps 3 and 4 and move straight to the rescuing and aft kicking.

 

Of course, seeing that Megatron’s base was under water it still took some time to prepare, though that did little to lessen the Prime’s anger or certain individuals’ wish for revenge.

 

What did eventually stop them was Jazz walking into the base, humming some song or another, just as the Autobots were about to roll out.

 

“Hey, guys. Did Ah miss something?”

 

“Your own rescue mission” Prowl deadpanned, because Optimus had frozen up in shock.

 

“Really? Aw, that’s sweet, but ye shouldn’t have. The room service was terrible, so Ah checked out early. Oh, and Ah brought souvenirs” the saboteur grinned and handed data pads to Blaster and Prowl and piece of metal that might have been part of a seeker’s wing, probably Skywarp going by the colour, for Sideswipe.

 

“And for Ratch Ah’ve got a very compliant patient.”

 

“Damn straight you have” the medic snapped and dragged the saboteur away.

 

Optimus watched them, then heaved a sigh that was only just so not a sob.

 

Thank Primus, Jazz was safe.

 

“Why am I keeping him around again?”

 

“Because he is the best at what he does and you are ridiculously in love with each other” Prowl supplied calmly, already scanning the new information with something akin to glee. “Also, in light of recent events I’m predicting a long break from any and all Decepticon activity, so starting the day after tomorrow I’m taking a week off, completely, as in leaving the base and don’t dare calling me safe for the end of the world.”

 

“Will you take the unholy twosome along?”

 

“The idea was a long, romantic weekend, though I have reason to believe the romance part will fall a bit short.”

 

“Too much information. The vacation is sanctioned; call in every two days and have fun. I have other places to be” the Prime replied and went to haunt the med bay. There was no way Ratchet would clear Jazz in time for them to even pretend to go on a surprise-anniversary-picnic-date, but they would make due. It wasn’t always easy, it wasn’t always fun. They talked, they argued, Jazz flirted and Optimus ended up laughing along when he absolutely failed to do the same.

 

It wasn’t perfect, but more times than not everything they had never dared to hope for and more.

 

**END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it.  
> I swear, when I started the story I had plans of awkward dates and the like and instead ... well, I made the best out of. I'm not happy with how it turned out, but I'd like to hear your opinion.
> 
> Also, I hadsome more side stories in mind for this universe about the twins, Ratchet and Ironhide and maybe an excursion into the Decepticon ranks, but even now, years later, I still haven't more than a few basic ideas, so you shouldn't wait on it.


End file.
